he owl emerged from the Twilight the moment I stepped inside the door. It launched into the air¡ªfor just an instant I felt the light prick of its claws¡ªand headed for the refrigerator.

"Maybe I ought to make you a perch?" I asked, locking the door.

For the first time I saw how Olga spoke. Her beak twitched, and she forced the words out with an obvious effort. To be honest, I still don't understand how a bird can talk. Especially in such a human voice.

"Better not, or I'll start laying eggs."

That was obviously an attempt at a joke.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," I told her, to avoid complications. "I was trying to lighten things up too."

"I understand. It's all right."

I rummaged in the refrigerator and discovered a few odd bits and pieces. Cheese, salami, pickles... I wondered how forty-year-old cognac would go with a lightly salted cucumber? They'd probably find each other's company a bit awkward. The way Olga and I did.

I took out the cheese and the salami.

"I don't have any lemons, sorry." I realized just how absurd all these preparations were, but still... "At least it's a decent cognac."

The owl didn't say anything.

I took the bottle of Kutuzov out of the drawer in the table that I used as a bar.

"Ever tried this?"

"Our reply to Napoleon?" the owl asked with a laugh. "No, I haven't."

The situation just kept getting more and more absurd. I rinsed out two cognac glasses and put them on the table, glanced doubtfully at the bundle of white feathers, at the short, crooked beak.

"You can't drink from a glass. Maybe I should get you a saucer?"

"Look the other way."

I did as she said. There was a rustling of feathers behind my back. Then a faint, unpleasant hissing sound that reminded me of a snake that's just been woken up or gas escaping from a cylinder.

"Olga, I'm sorry, but..." I said as I turned around.

The owl wasn't there anymore.

Sure, I'd been expecting something like this. I'd been hoping she was allowed to assume human form sometimes at least. And in my mind I'd drawn this portrait of Olga, a woman imprisoned in the body of a bird, a woman who remembers the Decembrist uprising. I'd had this picture of Princess Lopukhina running away from the ball. Only a bit older and more serious, with a wise look in her eyes, a bit thinner...

But the woman sitting on the stool was young; in fact, she looked really young. About twenty-five. Hair cut short like a man's, dirt on her cheeks, as if she'd just escaped from a fire. Beautiful, with finely molded, aristocratic features. But that dirty soot... that crude, ugly haircut...

The final shock was the way she was dressed.

Dirty army trousers in the 1940s style, a padded jacket, unbuttoned, over a dirty-gray soldier's blouse. Bare feet.

"Am I beautiful?" the woman asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, you are," I replied. "Light and Darkness... why do you look that way?"

"The last time I assumed human form was fifty-five years ago."

I nodded.

"I get it. They used you in the war."

"They use me in every war," Olga said with a sweet smile. "In every serious war. At any other time I'm forbidden to assume human form."

"There's no war on now."

"Then there's going to be one."

She didn't smile that time. I restrained my oath and just made the sign to ward off misfortune.

"Do you want to take a shower?"

"I'd love to."

"I don't have any woman's clothes... will jeans and a shirt do?"

She nodded. She got up¡ªmoving awkwardly, waving her arms around in a funny way and looking down in surprise at her own bare feet. But she walked to the bathroom like it wasn't the first time she'd taken a shower at my place.

I made a dash for the bedroom. She probably didn't have much time.

A pair of old jeans one size smaller than I wear now. They'll still be too big for her... A shirt? No, better a thin sweater. Underwear... hmm. Hmm, hmm, hmm.

"Anton!"

I piled the clothes into a heap, grabbed a clean towel, and dashed back. The bathroom door was open.

"What kind of faucet is this?"

"It's a foreign import, a ball mechanism... just a moment."

I went in. Olga was standing naked in the bath with her back to me, turning the lever of the faucet left and right.

"Up," I said. "You lift it up to get pressure. Left for cold water, right for hot."

"Okay. Thanks."

She wasn't even slightly embarrassed. Not surprising, considering her age and her rank... even if she no longer held one.

But I felt embarrassed. So I tried to act unfazed.

"Here are the threads. Maybe you can pick something out. That is, if you need anything."

"Thank you, Anton..." Olga looked at me. "Take no notice. I've spent eighty years in a bird's body. Hibernating most of the time, but I've still had more than enough."

Her eyes were deep, fascinating. Dangerous eyes.

"I don't think of myself as a human being, or an Other, or a woman any longer. Or as an owl, either, come to that. Just... a bitter, old sexless fool who can sometimes talk."

The water spurted out of the showerhead. Olga slowly raised her arms and turned around, reveling in the sensation of the firm jets.

"Washing off the soot is more important to me than... the embarrassment of an attractive young man."

I swallowed the "young man" without any arguments and left the bathroom. I shook my head, picked up the cognac, and opened the bottle.

One thing at least was clear: She was no werewolf. A werewolf wouldn't have kept the clothes on its body. Olga was a magician. A female magician maybe two hundred years old who'd been punished eighty years ago by being deprived of her body but still hoped for a chance to redeem herself. She was a specialist in conflicts involving force, and the last time she'd been used for a job had been about fifty years earlier...

That was enough information to search the database in the computer. I didn't have access to the complete files; I wasn't that senior. But fortunately the top management had no idea how much information an indirect search could yield.

Provided, of course, that I really wanted to find out who Olga was.

I poured the cognac into the glasses and waited. Olga came out of the bathroom about five minutes later, drying her hair with a towel. She was wearing my jeans and sweater.

I couldn't say she was totally transformed... but she was definitely looking way more attractive.

"Thanks, Anton. You've no idea how much I enjoyed..."

"I can guess."

"Guessing's not enough. That smell, Anton... that smell of burning. I'd almost got used to it after half a century." She sat down awkwardly on a stool and sighed. "It's not good, of course, but I'm glad this crisis is happening. Even if they don't pardon me, for a chance to get washed..."

"You can stay in this form, Olga. I'll go out and buy some decent clothes."

"Don't bother. I only have half an hour a day."

Olga screwed up the towel and tossed it onto the windowsill. She sighed:

"I might not get another chance to take a shower. Or drink cognac... Your health, Anton."

"Your health."

The cognac was good. I took a sip and savored it, despite the total muddle in my head. Olga downed it in one and pulled a face, but she declared politely:

"Not bad."

"Why won't the boss let you assume your normal form?"

"That's not in his power."

Clear enough. So it wasn't the regional office that had punished her, but the higher authorities.

"Here's to your success, Olga. Whatever it was that you did... I'm sure your guilt must have been expiated by now."

The woman shrugged.

"I'd like to think so. I know people find me easy to sympathize with, but the punishment was just. Anyway, let's get down to serious business."

"Okay."

Olga leaned toward me across the table and spoke in a mysterious whisper:

"I'll be honest with you: I've had enough. I've got strong nerves, but this is no way to live. My only chance is to carry through an assignment so important that our superiors will have no option but to pardon me."

"Where can you find a mission like that?"

"We already have it. And it consists of three stages. The boy¡ªwe protect him and then bring him over to the side of the Light. The girl-vampire¡ªwe destroy her."

Olga's voice sounded confident and suddenly I believed her. Protect one, destroy the other. No problem.

"But that's only the small change, Anton. An operation like that will get you promoted, but it won't save me. The really important part is the girl with the vortex."

"They're already dealing with her, Olga. They've taken me... us off the assignment."

"Never mind that. They won't be able to handle it."

"Oh no?" I asked ironically.

"They won't. Boris Ignatievich is a very powerful magician. But not in this area." Olga half-closed her eyes in a mocking smile. "I've been dealing with Inferno eruption breaches all my life."

"So that's why it's war!" I exclaimed, catching on.

"Of course. You don't get sudden eruptions of hatred like that during times of peace. That son of a bitch Adolf... he had plenty of admirers, but he would have been incinerated in the very first year of the war. And the whole of Germany with him. The situation with Stalin was a different case, adoration on a monstrous scale like that is a powerful shield. Anton, I'm a simple Russian woman..."¡ªthe smile that flitted across Olga's face showed what she really felt about the word "simple"¡ª"and I spent all the last war shielding the enemies of my own country against curses. For that alone I deserve to be pardoned. Do you believe me?"

"I believe you." I got the impression she was already getting tipsy.

"It's lousy work... we all have to go against our human nature, but going that far... Anyway, Anton, they won't be able to handle it. I... can at least try, though even I can't be absolutely certain of success."

"Olga, if this is all so serious, you should put in a report..."

The woman shook her head and straightened out her wet hair.

"I can't. I'm forbidden to associate with anyone except Boris Ignatievich and my partner on the assignment. I've told him everything. All I can do now is wait. And hope that I'll be able to deal with this¡ªat the very last moment."

"But doesn't the boss understand all that?"

"I think he understands it all very well."

"So that's the way..." I whispered.

"We were lovers. For a very long time. And we were friends too, something you don't find so often... Okay, Anton. Today we solve the problem of the boy and the crazed vampire. Tomorrow we wait. We wait for the Inferno to erupt. Agreed?"

"I have to think about it, Olga."

"Fine. Think. But my time's up already. Turn away."

I didn't have time. It was probably Olga's own fault. She'd miscalculated how much time she had left.

It was a genuinely repulsive sight. Olga shuddered and arched over backward. A spasm ran through her body and the bones bent as if they were made of rubber. Her skin split open, revealing the bleeding muscles. A moment later, and the woman had been transformed into a formless, crumpled bundle of flesh. And the ball kept shrinking, getting smaller and smaller and sprouting soft, white feathers...

The polar owl launched itself off the stool with a cry that sounded half-human, half-bird and fluttered across to its chosen place on the refrigerator.

"Hell and damnation!" I exclaimed, forgetting all the rules and instructions. "Olga!"

"Isn't it lovely?" The woman's voice was gasping, still distorted by pain.

"Why? Why like that?"

"It's part of the punishment, Anton."

I reached out my hand and touched one outstretched, trembling wing.

"Okay, Olga, I agree."

"Then let's get to work, Anton."

I nodded and went out into the hallway. I opened the cupboard where I kept my equipment and moved into the Twilight¡ªotherwise you simply can't see anything in there except clothes and a load of old junk.

A light body settled on to my shoulder.

"What have you got?"

"I discharged the onyx amulet. Can you recharge it?"

"No, I've been deprived of almost all my powers. All they left me is what's required to neutralize the inferno. And my memory, Anton... they left me my memory. How are you going to kill the girl-vampire?"

"She's not registered," I said. "I've only got the old folk methods."

The owl gave a screeching laugh.

"Are poplar stakes still popular?"

"I don't have one."

"Right. Because of your friends?"

"Yes. I don't want them to shudder every time they step inside the door."

"What, then?"

I took a pistol out of a hollow gouged out in the bricks and squinted sideways at the owl¡ªOlga was studying the gun.

"Silver? Very painful for a vampire, but not fatal."

"It has explosive bullets." I slid the clip out of the Desert Eagle. "Explosive silver bullets. Forty-four caliber. Three hits and a vampire's totally helpless."

"And then?"

"Traditional methods."

"I don't believe in technology," Olga said doubtfully. "I've seen a werewolf regenerate after being torn to pieces by a shell."

"How long did it take to regenerate?"

"Three days."

"Well, there you are then."

"All right, Anton. If you have no faith in your own powers..."

She was disappointed, I realized that. But then I was no field operative. I was a staff worker assigned to work in the field.

"Everything will be fine," I reassured her. "Trust me. Let's just focus on finding the bait." "Okay, let's go."

"This is where it all happened," I told Olga. We were standing in the alley. In the Twilight, of course.

The occasional passersby looked funny skirting around me when they couldn't see me.

"This is where you killed the vampire." Olga's tone of voice couldn't possibly have been more brisk. "Right... I understand. You did a poor job cleaning up the garbage... but that's not important..."

As far as I could see, there wasn't a trace left of the departed vampire. But I didn't argue.

"The girl-vampire was here... you hit her with something here... no, you splashed vodka on her..." Olga laughed quietly. "She got away... Our operatives have completely lost their touch. The trail's still clear even now!"

"She changed," I said morosely.

"Into a bat?"

"Yes. Garik said she did it at the very last moment."

"That's bad. This vampire's more powerful than I was hoping."

"She's completely wild. She's drunk living blood and killed. She has no experience, but plenty of power."

"We'll destroy her," Olga said sternly.

I didn't say anything.

"And here's the boy's trail." There was a note of approval in Olga's voice. "Yes indeed... good potential. Let's go and see where he lives."

We walked out of the alley and set off along the sidewalk. The houses surrounded a large inner yard on all sides. I could sense the boy's aura too, but it was very weak and confused: He walked around here all the time.

"Straight ahead," Olga commanded. "Turn left. Farther. Turn right. Stop..."

I stopped facing a street with a streetcar crawling slowly

I stopped facing a street with a streetcar crawling slowly along it. I didn't emerge from the Twilight yet.

"In that building," Olga told me. "Straight ahead. That's where he is."

The building was a huge monster, an immensely tall, flat slab set on tall legs or stilts. At first glance it looked like some gigantic monument to the matchbox. Look again and you could see it was an expression of morbid gigantomania.

"That's a good house for killing in," I said. "You could go insane in there."

"Let's try both," Olga agreed. "I've got plenty of experience."

Egor didn't want to go out. When his parents left to go to work and the door slammed, he felt the fear immediately. And he knew that outside the bounds of the empty apartment the fear would turn into terror.

There was nothing that could save him. Nothing anywhere. But at least his home gave him the illusion of safety.

Last night the world had crumbled, the world had completely collapsed. Egor had always admitted quite honestly¡ªat least to himself, if not in public¡ªthat he wasn't really brave. But he wasn't exactly a coward either. There were some things it was only right to be afraid of: young thugs, maniacs, terrorists, disasters, fires, wars, deadly diseases. To him, they were all lumped together¡ªand all equally far away. All these things really did exist, but at the same time they remained beyond his everyday experience. Follow simple rules, don't wander the streets at night, don't go into unfamiliar districts, wash your hands before eating, don't jump onto the railway lines. It was possible to be afraid of unpleasant things and at the same time know there wasn't much chance they would mess up your life.

Now everything had changed.

There were some things you couldn't hide from. Things that shouldn't exist, that couldn't exist.

But vampires did exist.

He remembered it all distinctly; the horror hadn't wiped his memory clean, the way he'd vaguely hoped it would yesterday, when he was running home, breaking the rules by running across the street without looking. And his timid hope that in the morning everything that had happened would turn out to be a dream had proved wrong too.

It was all true. It couldn't possibly be true, but it was...

It had happened yesterday. It had happened to him.

He'd been late coming home, sure, but he'd come home later than that before. Even his parents who, Egor was quite certain, hadn't realized yet that he was almost thirteen years old, thought nothing of it.

When he left the swimming pool with the other guys... yes, it was ten o'clock already. They all piled into McDonald's and sat there for about twenty minutes. That was the usual thing too, after training everyone who could afford it went to McDonald's. Then... then they all walked to the metro together. It wasn't far. Along a brightly lit street. Eight of them together.

Everything was still fine then.

It was in the metro that he'd started feeling uneasy. He looked at his watch, stared around at the other passengers. But there was nothing suspicious.

Except that Egor could hear music.

And then things that couldn't happen had started happening.

Without knowing why, he turned into a dark, stinking alleyway. He walked up to a girl and a young guy who were waiting for him. They'd lured him there. And he offered his own neck to the girl's long, sharp fangs that weren't even human.

Even now, at home on his own, Egor could feel that chill¡ªthat sweet, enticing tingle running across his skin. He'd wanted it to happen! He'd been afraid, but he'd wanted the touch of the gleaming fangs, the sharp, short pain, and then... and then... there'd be something else... there had to be...

And no one in the whole wide world could help him. Egor remembered the way the woman who was walking her dogs had looked straight through him. An alert glance, not at all indifferent¡ªshe hadn't been frightened, she simply couldn't see what was happening... Egor had been saved only by the third vampire turning up. That pale guy with the Walkman who'd started trailing him back in the metro. They'd fought over him the way hungry, full-grown wolves quarrel over a deer they've cornered but not killed yet.

Then everything had got confused; it all happened too fast. Someone shouted something about some watch or other, about the twilight. There was a flash of blue light, and one vampire crumbled into dust right there in front of his eyes, just like in the movies. The girl-vampire was howling because she'd had something splashed into her face.

Then he'd fled in panic...

And now he realized something terrible, even more terrible than what had happened: He couldn't tell anyone anything. They wouldn't believe him. They wouldn't understand.

Vampires don't exist!

It's not possible to look straight through people and not see them!

Nobody just burns up in a swirl of blue flame, and turns into a dried mummy, a skeleton, a handful of ash!

"They do!" Egor told himself. "They do exist. It is possible. It does happen!"

But even he could hardly believe it...

Egor didn't go to school, but he did clean up the apartment. He wanted to do something. Several times he went across to the window and looked carefully around the yard.

Nothing suspicious.

But would he be able to see them?

They would come. Egor didn't doubt it for a single second. They knew he remembered them. Now they would kill him, because he was a witness.

But they wouldn't just kill him! They'd drink his blood and turn him into a vampire.

The boy walked over to the bookshelf, where half the shelves were filled with videocassettes. Maybe he could look for some advice here? Dracula, Dead and Loving It... no, that was comedy. Once Bitten¡ªabsolute garbage... Night of Terror . . . Egor shuddered. He remembered that film. And now he'd never dare watch it again. What did it say again? Oh, right... "A crucifix helps, if you believe in it."

But how could a crucifix help him? He wasn't even baptized. And he didn't believe in God. At least, he hadn't believed before.

Maybe he ought to start now?

If vampires existed, then so did the devil, and if the devil existed, then God did too?

If vampires existed, then so did God?

If Evil existed, then so did Good?

"It's all nonsense," said Egor. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans, went out into the hallway and looked in the mirror. He was reflected in the mirror. A bit too gloomy, maybe, but just a perfectly normal kid. That meant everything was still okay, so far. They hadn't managed to bite him.

Just to make sure, he twisted this way and that, trying to see the back of his neck. No, there were no marks, nothing. Just a skinny neck, maybe not too clean...

The idea suddenly hit him. Egor dashed into the kitchen, frightening the cat off its comfortable spot on the washing machine. He started rummaging through the bags of potatoes, onions, and carrots.

There it was, the garlic.

Egor hastily peeled one head and started chewing it. The garlic was fierce; it burned his mouth. Egor poured a glass of tea and started taking a mouthful after every clove. It didn't help much; his tongue was on fire and his gums itched. But it was sure to help, wasn't it?

The cat peeped back into the kitchen, gaped at the boy in amazement, gave a disappointed meow, and went away. He couldn't understand how anyone could eat anything so disgusting.

Egor chewed up the last two cloves, spat them out into his palm, and started rubbing them on his neck. He could have laughed at himself for doing it, but he wasn't going to stop now.

His neck started to sting too¡ªit was good garlic. A single breath would finish any vampire.

The cat began howling restlessly in the hallway. Egor pricked up his ears and peeped out of the kitchen. No, nothing there. The door was secured with three locks and a chain.

"Stop yelling, Gray!" he told the cat sternly. "Or I'll make you eat garlic too."

The cat took the threat seriously and dashed off into the parents' bedroom. What else could he do? Silver was supposed to help. Egor frightened the cat again by going into the bedroom, opening the wardrobe, and taking his mother's jewelry box out from under the sheets and towels. He took out a silver chain and put it on. It would smell of garlic, and he'd have to take it off before the evening. Maybe he should empty his moneybox and buy himself a chain? With a crucifix. And wear it all the time. Say he'd started believing in God. Didn't it happen sometimes that someone didn't believe for a long, long time, and then suddenly started believing after all?

He walked across the living room, sat down with his feet up on the couch and looked around the room thoughtfully. Did they have any poplar wood in the house? He didn't think so. And what did poplar wood look like, anyway? Maybe he should go to the botanical gardens and cut himself a dagger out of a branch?

That was all great, of course, but what good would it do? If the music started playing again... that soft, alluring music... What if he took the chain off himself, broke the poplar-wood dagger, and washed the garlic off his own neck?

Soft, gentle music... invisible enemies. Maybe they were already there with him. He simply couldn't see them. He didn't know how to look. And a vampire might be sitting right there, laughing at him, looking at this naive kid preparing his defenses. And he wasn't afraid of any poplar stake, he wasn't scared by the garlic. How could you fight against something invisible?

"Gray!" Egor called. The cat didn't respond to the usual "kss-kss"; he was a fickle character. "Come here, Gray!"

The cat was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His fur was standing on end and his eyes were blazing. He was looking past Egor, into the corner, at the armchair beside the coffee table. At an empty chair...

The boy felt that familiar chilly shiver run over his body. He jerked forward so violently that he went flying off the couch and landed on the floor. The armchair was empty. The apartment was empty and locked. Everything turned dark, as if the sunlight outside the window had suddenly dimmed...

There was someone there with him.

"No!" Egor shouted, crawling away. "I know! I know you're here!"

The cat gave a hoarse screech and darted under the bed.

"I can see you," shouted Egor. "Don't touch me!"

The entryway of the building looked gloomy and miserable enough anyway. But viewed from inside the twilight, it was a genuine catacomb. Concrete walls that were simply dirty in ordinary reality were overgrown with a dark blue moss in the Twilight. Disgusting filth. There wasn't a single Other living here to clean up the place... I passed my hand over a really thick bunch¡ªthe moss stirred, trying to creep away from the warmth.

"Burn," I ordered it.

I don't like parasites. Not even if they don't do any particular harm and only drink other creatures' emotions. No one's ever proved the hypothesis that large colonies of blue moss are capable of unbalancing the human psyche and causing depression or mania. But I've always preferred to play it safe.

"Burn!" I repeated, transmitting a small amount of power through my hand.

A hot, transparent flame spread across the layer of tangled blue felt. A moment later the entire entrance was ablaze. I stepped away toward the elevator, pressed the button, got into the elevator. The cabin was a lot cleaner.

"Ninth floor," Olga prompted. "Why waste your powers like that?"

"That's just small change..."

"You might need everything you've got. Let it grow."

I didn't answer. The elevator crawled slowly upward¡ªthe Twilight elevator, the double of the ordinary one that was still standing on the first floor.

"Suit yourself," said Olga. "The uncompromising passion of youth..."

The doors opened. The fire had already reached the ninth floor and the blue moss was blazing wildly. It was warm, a lot warmer than it usually is in the Twilight. There was a slight smell of burning.

"That door there..." said Olga.

"I can see."

I could sense the boy's aura by the door. He hadn't even taken the risk of coming out today. Excellent. The little goat was tethered with a strong rope; all we had to do was wait for the tiger.

"I suppose I'll go in," I said. I pushed the door.

The door didn't open.

That couldn't happen!

In the real world all the locks on the door could be closed, but the Twilight has its own laws. Only vampires need an invitation to enter someone else's home; that's the price they pay for their excessive strength and their gastronomic attitude to human beings.

In order to lock a door in the Twilight, you had to know at least how to enter it.

"Fear," said Olga. "Yesterday the boy was in a state of terror. And he'd just been in the Twilight world. He locked the door behind him... and without knowing it, he locked it in both worlds at the same time."

"Come deeper. Follow me."

I looked at my shoulder¡ªthere was no one there. Summoning the Twilight while you're in the Twilight is no simple trick. I had to raise my shadow from the floor several times before it acquired volume and hung there, quivering in front of me.

"Come on, come on, you're doing fine," whispered Olga.

I entered the shadow, and the Twilight grew thicker. Space was filled with a dense fog. Colors disappeared completely. The only sound left was the beating of my heart, slow and heavy, rumbling like a drum being beaten at the bottom of a ravine. And there was a whistling wind¡ªthat was the air seeping into my lungs, slowly stretching out the bronchi. The white owl appeared on my shoulder.

"I won't be able to stand this for long," I whispered, opening the door. At this level, of course, it wasn't locked.

A dark-gray cat flitted past my feet. For cats there is no ordinary world or Twilight¡ªthey live in all the worlds at once. It's a good thing they don't have any real intelligence.

"Kss-kss-kss," I whispered. "Don't be afraid, puss..."

Mostly to test my own powers, I locked the door behind me. There, kid, now you're protected a little bit better. But will it do any good when you hear the Call?

"Move up," said Olga. "You're losing strength very fast. This level of the Twilight is a strain even for an experienced magician. I think I'll move up a level too."

It was a relief to step out of it. No, I'm not an operational agent who can stroll around all three levels of the Twilight just as he likes. But I don't really need to do that kind of thing.

The world turned a little bit brighter. I glanced around. It was a cozy apartment, not much polluted by the products of the Twilight world. A few streaks of blue moss beside the door... nothing to worry about, they'd die, now that the main colony had been exterminated. I heard sounds too, from the direction of the kitchen. I glanced in.

The boy was standing by the table, eating garlic and washing it down with hot tea.

"Light and Darkness," I whispered.

The kid looked even younger and more helpless than the day before, thin and awkward, but you couldn't call him weak; he obviously played sports. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a blue sweatshirt.

"The poor soul," I said.

"Very touching," Olga agreed. "It was a very clever move by the vampires to spread that rumor about the magical properties of garlic. They say it was Bram Stoker himself who thought it up..."

The boy spat into his hand and started rubbing garlic onto his neck.

"Garlic's good for you," I said.

"Yes. It protects you. Against flu viruses," Olga added. "Oh, how easily the truth is lost, and how persistent lies are... But the boy really is strong. The Night Watch could do with another agent."

"But is he ours?"

"He's not anyone's yet. His destiny's still not been determined; you can see for yourself."

"But which way does he lean?"

"There's no way to tell, not yet. He's too frightened. Right now he'd do absolutely anything to escape from the vampires. He's ready to turn to the Dark or the Light."

"I can't blame him for that."

"No, of course. Come on."

The owl fluttered into the air and flew along the corridor. I walked after it. We were moving three times faster than human beings now: One of the fundamental features of the Twilight is the way it affects the passage of time.

"We'll wait here," Olga announced, when we were in the living room. "It's warm, light, and cozy."

I sat in a soft armchair beside a low table and squinted at the newspaper lying there.

There's nothing more amusing than reading the press through the Twilight.

"Profits on Loans Are Down," said the headline.

In the real world the phrase was different: "Tension Mounts in the Caucasus."

I could pick up the newspaper now and read the truth. The real truth. What the journalist was thinking when he wrote about the subject he was covering. Those crumbs of information that he'd received from unofficial sources. The truth about life and the truth about death.

Only what for?

I'd stopped giving a damn about the human world a long time ago. It's our basis. Our cradle. But we are Others. We walk through closed doors and we maintain the balance of Good and Evil. There are pitifully few of us, and we can't reproduce¡ªit doesn't follow that a magician's daughter automatically becomes an enchantress, and a werewolf's son won't necessarily be able to change his form on moonlit nights.

We're not obliged to like the ordinary, everyday world.

We only guard it because we're its parasites.

I hate parasites!

"What are you thinking about now?" asked Olga. The boy appeared in the living room. He dashed across into the bedroom¡ªvery quickly, bearing in mind that he was in the everyday world. He started rummaging in the wardrobe.

"Nothing much. Just feeling sad."

"It happens. During the first few years it happens to everyone." Olga's voice sounded completely human now. "Then you get used to it."

"That's what I'm feeling sad about."

"You should be glad we're still alive. At the beginning of the twentieth century the population of Others fell to a critical threshold. Did you know there were debates about uniting the Dark Ones and the Light Ones? That programs of eugenics were developed?"

"Yes, I know."

"Science came close to killing us off. They didn't believe in us; they wouldn't believe. That is, while they still believed science could change the world for the better."

The boy came back into the living room. He sat down on the couch and started adjusting the silver chain around his neck.

"What is better?" I asked. "We were people once, but we've learned to enter the Twilight; we've learned to change the nature of things and other people. And what's changed, Olga?"

"At least vampires don't hunt without a license."

"Tell that to the person whose blood they drink..."

The cat appeared in the doorway and fixed his gaze on us. He howled, glaring angrily at the owl.

"It's you he doesn't like, Olga," I said. "Move deeper into the Twilight."

"Too late," Olga replied. "Sorry, I let my guard down."

The boy sprang up off the couch, far faster than is possible in the human world. Clumsily, without even knowing what was happening to him, he entered his shadow and immediately fell on the floor, looking up at me. Through the Twilight.

"I'm leaving..." the owl whispered as she disappeared. Her claws dug painfully into my shoulder.

"No!" shouted the boy. "I know! I know! You're here!"

I started to get up, spreading my hands.

"I can see you! Don't touch me!"

He was in the Twilight. He'd done it, just like that. Without any help from anyone, without any curses or stimulants, without any magician to tutor him, the boy had crossed the boundary between the ordinary and the Twilight worlds.

The way you first enter the Twilight, what you see and what you feel there, goes a long way to determine who you'll become.

A Dark One or a Light One. Olga's voice in my head:

"We have no right to let him go over to the Dark Side; the balance in Moscow would completely collapse."

Okay, kid, you're right on the very edge.

That was more terrifying than any inexperienced vampire.

Boris Ignatievich was entitled to have the boy taken out.

"Don't be afraid," I said, not moving from the spot. "Don't be afraid. I'm your friend and I won't do you any harm."

The boy crawled as far as the corner and froze there, never once taking his eyes off me. He clearly didn't understand that he'd shifted into the Twilight. It looked to him as if the room had suddenly turned dark, a sudden silence had fallen, and I'd appeared out of nowhere...

"Don't be afraid," I repeated. "My name's Anton. What's your name?"

He didn't say anything. He kept gulping, over and over again. Then he pressed his hand against his neck, felt for the chain, and seemed to calm down a bit.

"I'm not a vampire," I said.

"Who are you?" the boy yelled. It was a good thing that piercing shriek couldn't be heard in the everyday world.

"Anton. A Night Watch agent."

His eyes opened wide, as if he were in pain.

"It's my job to protect people against vampires and all sorts of vermin."

"You're lying..."

"Why?"

He shrugged. Good. He was trying to assess his actions so far and explain his reasons. That meant the fear hadn't completely paralyzed his mind.

"What's your name?" I asked again. I could have influenced the boy and removed his fear. But that would have been an intervention, and a forbidden one.

"Egor..."

"A good name. My name's Anton. Do you understand? I'm Anton Sergeevich Gorodetsky. A Night Watch agent. Yesterday I killed a vampire who was attacking you."

"Just one?"

Excellent. Now we had the makings of a conversation.

"Yes. The girl-vampire got away. They're searching for her now. Don't be afraid, I'm here to guard you... to destroy the vampire."

"Why is everything so gray?" Egor suddenly asked.

Good boy. That's really good thinking.

"I'll explain. Only first let's agree that I'm not your enemy. All right?"

"We'll see."

He held on to his absurd little chain, as if it could save him from anything. Oh, kid, if only everything in this world were that easy. Silver won't save you, or poplar wood, or the holy cross. It's life against death, love against hate... and power against power, because power has no moral categories. That's how simple it is. In the last couple of years I've come to realize that.

"Egor," I said, walking slowly across to him. "Listen, I want to tell you something."

"Stop!"

He shouted the command as sharply as if he were holding a weapon in his hands. I sighed and stopped.

"All right. Now listen. Apart from the ordinary world that the human eye can see, there is also a shadow world, the Twilight world."

He thought. Despite his fear¡ªand he was terribly afraid, I could feel the waves of his suffocating horror washing over me¡ªthe boy was trying to understand. There are some people who are paralyzed by fear. And there are some it only makes stronger.

I was really hoping he would be one of the second kind.

"A parallel world?"

There, now he was bringing in science fiction. But never mind, it didn't matter. Names are nothing more than sounds.

"Yes, and only people with supernatural powers can enter that world."

"Vampires?"

"Not only. There are werewolves, witches, black magicians... white magicians, healers, seers."

"And they all really exist?"

He was soaking wet. His hair was clumped together; his sweatshirt was clinging to his body; beads of sweat were rolling down his cheeks. But still the boy never took his eyes off me and was getting ready to thwart me. As if he really had the power to do it.

"Yes, Egor. Sometimes people appear who can enter the Twilight world. They take the side of either Good or Evil. Light or Darkness. They are the Others. That's what we call each other, the Others."

"Are you an Other?"

"Yes, and so are you."

"Why?"

"You're in the Twilight world right now, kid. Take a look around, listen. All the colors have turned gray. The sounds have faded away. The second hand on the clock is barely creeping along. You entered the Twilight world... you wanted to see the danger and you crossed the boundary between worlds. Time moves more slowly here, everything is different here. This is the world of the Others."

"I don't believe it." Egor glanced around quickly, then looked back at me. "Then why's Gray here?"

"The cat?" I smiled. "Animals follow their own laws, Egor. Cats live in all the dimensions at once; for them there is no difference."

"I don't believe you." His voice was trembling. "It's all a dream, I know! When the light fades like that... I'm asleep. It's happened to me before."

"So you've had dreams about turning on the light and the bulb not lighting up?" I already knew the answer, and anyway I could read it in the boy's eyes. "Or it lights up, but only very, very faintly, like a candle? And you're walking along with the Darkness swaying all around you, and you hold out your hand and you can't even make out your own fingers?"

He didn't answer.

"That happens to all of us, Egor. Every Other has dreams like that. It's the Twilight world creeping into us, calling us, reminding us about itself. You are an Other. Still a young one, but you are. And you're the only one..."

I didn't realize immediately that his eyes were closed and his head was slumped to one side.

"You idiot," Olga hissed from my shoulder. "This is the first time he's entered the Twilight independently! He hasn't got the strength for this! Pull him out quickly, or he'll stay here forever!"

Twilight coma is a novice's problem. I'd almost forgotten about it, because I'd never worked with young Others.

"Egor!" I leapt across and shook him, grabbing him under the shoulders. He was light, very light¡ªit's not only the movement of time that changes in the Twilight world. "Wake up!"

The boy didn't respond. He'd already done what it takes others months of training to do¡ªentered the Twilight on his own. And the Twilight world just loves to suck the strength out of you.

"Pull him out!" said Olga, taking command of the situation. "He won't wake up himself."

I'd done the emergency rescue courses, but I'd never had to drag anyone out of the Twilight for real.

"Egor, snap out of it!" I slapped him on the cheeks. Gently at first, then I started putting real force into it. "Come on, kid. You're slipping away into the Twilight world! Wake up!"

He was getting lighter and lighter, melting away in my arms. The Twilight was drinking his life, sucking out his final ounces of strength. The Twilight was changing his body, claiming it as permanent resident. What had I done?

"Seal yourself off!" Olga's sharp voice focused my mind. "Seal yourself off, and him too..."

It always used to take me more than a minute to form a sphere. This time I did it in five seconds flat. I felt a stab of pain¡ªas if a small shell had exploded inside my head. I threw back my head when the sphere of exclusion emerged from my body, shrouding me like a shimmering soap bubble. The bubble expanded, reluctantly enveloping me and the boy.

"That's it; now hold it there. I can't do anything to help you, Anton. Hold that sphere!"

Olga was wrong. She'd already helped me, with her advice. I'd probably have realized that I ought to form a sphere, but I could have lost precious seconds in the process.

It started getting lighter. The Twilight was still draining our strength¡ªmine with an effort, the boy's with ease¡ªbut now it only had a few cubic meters of space to operate with. The ordinary laws of physics don't apply here, but there are parallels. A balance was being established between our living bodies and the Twilight.

Either the Twilight would dissolve and release its prey or the boy would remain an inhabitant of the Twilight world. Forever. It's what happens to magicians who have pushed themselves beyond the limit, either through carelessness or because they had no choice. It's what happens with novices who don't know how to protect themselves against the Twilight properly and allow it to take more than they should.

I looked at Egor. His face was turning gray. He was slipping away into the infinite expanses of the shadow world.

I threw the boy across my right arm, took a penknife out of my left pocket, and opened the blade with my teeth.

"That's dangerous," Olga warned me.

I didn't answer. I just slashed my wrist.

When the blood spurted out, the twilight hissed like a red-hot frying pan. Everything went blurred. It wasn't just the loss of the blood; my very life was seeping away with it. I'd ruptured my own defenses against the Twilight.

But the dose of energy was too large for it to absorb.

The world turned brighter; my shadow jumped onto the floor and I stepped through it. The rainbow film of the sphere of exclusion burst, releasing us into the everyday world.